


The Hangover, Part Wicked

by ClinicalChaos



Category: The Hangover (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Almost death by tiger, Boys In Love, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, The Hangover AU, Thomas is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClinicalChaos/pseuds/ClinicalChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gally is getting married to Brenda on August second. As the best man, Newt is thrilled, but would be more thrilled if Brenda's annoying cousin Minho weren't a groomsman. Because Minho is hot, and clever, and this bodes very badly for Newt. Then Gally is missing the next morning, and suddenly, Newt is not thrilled at all.</p><p>Throw in a tiger, Thomas' (dis)ability to plan, a baby, a chicken, the police, some drugs, and Mike Tyson, and the 'Runners' will never look at Las Vegas the same away again.</p><p>(AKA, The Maze Runner Hangover AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hangover, Part Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Have fun with this, Gladers. Lord knows I did.

**12:47pm, August 1 st**

Newt started his morning by floating on a bed of clouds. Being an ecologist, this was not Newt’s typical morning, but he was quite enjoying the experience. The cloud smelt fresh, felt like unending softness, and, best of all, came with a warm, sculpted body to snuggle against. Newt was debating the merits of drifting off again when he remembered that clouds were actually made of condensation, and, unfortunately, did not usually provide gods to cuddle into.

Newt snapped his eyes open and scuttled out of the bed, strangled scream caught in his throat. Well, not a bed – nest, more like, a nest composed of an obscenely expensive mattress and thousand-count sheets. Tripping backwards, he groped blindly for the light switch, only to hiss as light exploded in the room and sent him to a crouch. Inside his head, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade continued on without so much as a stutter.

Dear mother of fuck, Newt thought, what the fuck had happened?

“Dear mother of fuck,” Newt snarled, kicking at the mattress he’d just jumped up from. The mound of sheets on the far side gave a low moan of agony. Newt kicked the mattress again. “What the fuck happened!?”

Slowly, and with great pain, the mound with the delectable chest poked its head from its cocoon, revealing a mop of ruffled dark hair. Newt felt himself blanch. Oh, fuck. Please, no, please, please –

“Newt?” The mound muttered, shifting just enough for a pair of chocolate eyes to peer over the edge. “Why’re you yelling, man? And why’re you naked?”

Looking back on the situation later, Newt would maintain that he was completely justified in the screech of realization that followed Minho’s statement. Thomas would insist that Newt was just a drama queen. Aris, Thomas’ boyfriend, would nod noncommittally, having not been directly involved in that portion of the story. Minho – well, Minho didn’t get a damn say.

(Accept when he did, which was to kiss Newt and claim that he was happy to be dating genuine British royalty. Newt would pretend not to blush. He would also swat his boyfriend, but that was a given.)

Gally – who, not entirely coincidentally, was  _also_ not involved in that part of the story – would just be unimpressed with the lot of them. However, Brenda (Gally’s lovely and entirely too kind fiancé-turned-wife) found the whole episode hilarious, which was the only really important thing. After all, it was her wedding they’d nearly destroyed – Gally should just be pleased he didn’t have to deal with the tiger.

 **24 hours earlier, July 31st**  

“If you so much as sneeze on the paint, I will have your entrails for jump ropes,” Jorge Esposito snapped. His eyes dared one of the late twenty-somethings assembled before him to question his vow. Gally, the (un)lucky son-in-law, paled rapidly. As her fiancé stammered promises to protect the car (a yet-unreleased  _Berg Denver_ ) with his life, Brenda Esposito rolled her eyes.

Privately, Newt agreed with her. However, even as the best man, he’d be the last person to rise to the groom’s defense. Watching Gally, Newt’s indomitable best friend, pander to his father-in-law was quickly becoming one of funniest moments of Newt’s life.

 _I’m so going to bring this up in the speech_ , Newt thought. From the poisonous glare Gally was side-eyeing him with, the bastard knew it, too. Newt grinned jovially at him.  

Before Gally had the chance to flip Newt the bird, Brenda wrapped her arms around her fiancé. “Personally, I’d rather have you back in one piece than the car,” she said. “However, for the sake of my father’s blood pressure, be careful with the car, too.” With that, she planted a kiss on Gally’s lips. As was their duty, Newt and the rest of the bachelor party whooped, ignoring Jorge’s disgusted noise.  

“Alright, alright! Off you get.” Jorge muttered, “Before I have to see anything else I don’t want to.”

Thomas chuckled, “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Yeah!” Minho yelled, jumping into the front seat of the Berg. “Come on, Runners! We’ve got a hell of a weekend ahead of us!”

Newt rolled his eyes. Minho was Brenda’s distant relation of some sort, included in the groom’s party to keep the familial peace. He was gorgeous, athletic, and a complete dork. He’d also been the one to decide that the groomsmen would be called the ’ _Runners_ ,’ because of, “How much trouble we’ll be running from!” Newt disliked him on principle. Or, at least, he disliked how he kept staring at Minho’s perfect face when he should be living up to his best man duties. But nobody needed to know about that. No one ever would. Newt was going to enjoy this weekend in Las Vegas, help one of his oldest friends down the aisle, and then disappear back to his lab. Nowhere in that plan was there room for a hot, flighty love interest. Newt was content with his plants and science, dammit. He’d worked too long to lose focus now.

Plan set in his mind, Newt started throwing bags into the car. The first step of his plan was ignoring how delectable Minho’s arms were when hefting luggage. Step two was ignoring Thomas’ raised eyebrow when Newt inevitably failed step one.

Whatever, Newt thought viciously. Everyone and their cat knew that Theresa Agnes held Thomas by the short and curlies. Thomas had no room criticizing Newt’s love-life until he told the woman to stop calling him every thirty seconds. It was like she wanted to be able to read Thomas’ mind or something,  _Jesus_.

Finally, after several tempting minutes, the car was loaded. By some awful twist of fate, Newt wound up in the passenger’s seat beside Minho. Minho, who winked at Newt, cranked the music, and sped out of the driveway.

“Get ready, Vegas! Because the Runners are on their way!”

Idly, Newt wished he’d thought to bring a bottle of rum with him. Dammit all, anyway.

* * *

 

X number of hours and four wrong turns later, the ’ _Runners_ ’ - Newt couldn’t even think the name without air quotes - descended on the Caesar Hotel, in Las Vegas, Nevada. Too tall for words, the hotel rose like a great obelisk to capitalism. Or, something. Newt had an English minor, so sue him. In any event, the suite they were led to was huge and high-tech, obviously expensive and definitely luxurious. So, obviously, they wound up drinking on the roof. Obviously.

Also, it was Minho’s idea, which maybe was the reason Newt agreed. Stupid prat and his stupid prat smile. Newt wanted to kiss him.

“I want to kiss you,” Newt said. He had an arm slung around Minho’s neck. Before them, all of Las Vegas glittered like a sea of tiny jewels against black velvet. Minho smelt good, like alcohol and adventure. Behind them, Thomas and Gally laughed like a pair of hyenas.

Minho grinned at him. “Same,” he said, and pulled Newt into the best kiss of his life. Gally and Thomas howled and, well - things got  _blank_ around that point.

**1:39pm, August 1 st**

“I can’t believe we lost Gally,” Thomas mumbled. He wore a pair of jeans covered in suspicious stains and nothing else. There was a lollipop stuck in his hair. In his hands, he clutched his coffee like a lifeline. In the other room, his cellphone rung incessantly. Probably Theresa, wanting a check in.

Not likely to happen, that.

Newt groaned miserably. “I’m going to go down as the worst best man in the history of the world.”

“Brenda’s going to kill me,” Minho added. He cradled his head in his hands. He’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans, having noticed his own nakedness after Newt had screamed. Ever since, he’d been sending Newt little pointed glances that Newt had been pointedly ignoring.

Continuing with that plan, Newt crossed his arms and snorted. “As she should. It was your idea to get us all high.”

Minho sneered. “I didn’t see you stopping me!”

“Okay,” Thomas hissed. He cringed, then, and lowered his voice. “We did some stupid shit. But now we need to find Gally and get the fuck out of here in time for the wedding.”

Newt nodded, eager to have something to distract him. A missing best friend seemed like a good option. “Right, I’ll check with the front desk, see if anyone heard anything. Minho, you stay here in case he comes back. Thomas, have you tried his phone yet?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah, when you guys were dancing around in the bedroom. I got voice mail every time.”

Newt was about to say something cutting and witty - he really was - but a low roar from the bathroom cut him off.

“Uh,” Minho said, “That was someone’s stomach, right?”

Even if the roar had been, the baby’s crying and the panicked chicken clucking definitely were not.

**2:01pm, August 1st**

“I’m going to call him Chuck,” Thomas cooed. He had the baby strapped to his chest, where - Chuck, apparently - gurgled happily. Newt, obviously the only adult in the group of twenty-somethings, tried not to scream. Again.

After finding the tiger in the bathroom and the baby in the closet, no one had much wanted to stay in the hotel room. Honestly, Newt had lost all hope that Gally would turn up on his own once he’d caught sight of the chicken. Hence, they’d all come down to the lobby together. There had been no luck with the front desk, of fucking course. However, while considering rather punching the concierge was worthwhile or not, Newt had noticed the hospital band around Thomas’ wrist. Also, the tooth he had lost. Because of course he had, it was just that kind of day. So, now they were on their way to Las Vegas General, where they would hopefully find Gally. You know, if the valet ever returned with their  _very expensive car_.

“Um, Sirs?”

Newt looked up, his face blank in preparation for whatever fresh horror awaited him. The valet flinched.

“It… would appear you didn’t return to the hotel in the vehicle you arrived in.”

Minho tilted his head. Adorably, Newt thought, and then was furious with himself for thinking so. “What?”

“Well…”

The valet didn’t need to explain anymore, as behind him his co-worker rolled up in, not an unreleased Berg Denver, but –

“A police cruiser? Seriously!?” Minho gaped. The baby started crying (because of course) and Thomas cooed more hurriedly. Newt smacked a palm into his face.

“Could you please call the shuttle car?” Newt asked through his fingers. The valet hesitated, but the murder boiling in Newt’s eyes must have tipped him in a different direction. Within an hour, they were at the hospital. Not that their arrival made Newt’s life any easier, of course. Apparently, Minho was shit at buying drugs and had dosed them all with accidentally-purchased Rohypnol. Also, Gally was nowhere in the hospital’s system. As the topper on the shit sundae, Thomas was apparently married, too.

What the fuck kind of life was Newt even living, anyway? He felt utterly exhausted as he bullied the shuttle driver into taking them to the chapel where Thomas had somehow gotten married. He didn’t even put up a fight when he found himself squished beside Minho, Thomas (that little shit) refusing to sit in the front because of the baby.

Minho seemed overjoyed by the turn of events, faux-casually throwing his arm across Newt’s shoulders. Newt would have shoved him away, but that seemed like a lot of work. And Minho’s arm, though attached to a  _very_ annoying person, was quite comfortable to rest against. Hence, Newt took up a policy of ignorant bliss and tucked into his new headrest.

He drifted off so quickly he missed the way Minho pushed the hair from his eyes as he fell asleep.

**12:04am, August 2 nd**

Newt screamed at the tiger batted at his face, hands scrabbling for the car door. He was already covered in angry red welts from where the rat-faced naked man lying in the trunk of their reclaimed Berg had hit him with a crowbar. The Berg they’d found in police impound, after being arrested for stealing the police cruiser. They’d managed to reclaim the car and avoid arrest, but only after being Tazed in front of an audience of blood-thirsty twelve-year-olds. This was all after they’d ducked the gangsters outside the pretty stripper’s apartment, of course.

The pretty stripper Thomas had married. Aris. Aris, who was Chuck’s actual father. Oddly enough, Chuck’s real name was Charlie, so the nickname worked. Thomas was still a little choked up about having to return Chuck, but as Thomas had agreed to a date with Aris, maybe that wouldn’t be problem. Well, it would be a problem for Theresa, but whatever.

Gally was still nowhere in sight, but by that point Mike Tyson had informed them all very firmly that their most urgent goal was returning his tiger. The tiger they’d dosed with the rest of the Rohypnol and put in the  _very expensive car_.

The  _very expensive car_  Newt was definitely going to die by tiger in if the door didn’t fucking open very soon. Screaming again as the huge animal snarled at him, Newt was half-way through his prayers when the door popped open. Strong arms snatched him away in the nick of time, pulling him to safety and snapping the door closed behind him.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Newt chanted, fear-struck. Big hands ran over his shoulders and arms, a worried voice calling to him distantly. However, it wasn’t until he felt something drip on his face that Newt woke from his trance.  

Touching his cheek, Newt cringed as he recognized the liquid as blood. Whipping around, Newt scrambled to his feet and came face-to-face with Minho. A large cut curved from his temple to jaw.

“Oh my God,” Newt hissed. He wrapped his arms around Minho without thinking. “Do you realize you probably nearly died?”

Minho blinked, shocked, before grinning at Newt. Gently, he returned Newt’s impromptu hug. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Newt felt himself flush. His brain screamed at him to pull away, but fuck it. He’d nearly been mauled by a tiger –  _Minho_ had nearly be mauled by a tiger! If cuddling Minho made him feel better, his logic could screw itself. Defiantly, he held Minho tighter. “Well, I guess I must, idiot,” he murmured.  

“Um, guys?” Thomas queried. “Would you mind putting your moment on pause? We’re probably going to have to push this thing the rest of the way.”

Newt swore, jumping away from Minho. He walked determinedly to the back end of the Berg. “Right, of course. How much longer, do you think?”

Thomas shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Newt sighed, shoulders slumping. Typical Thomas. “Of course you don’t.”

Minho joined him at the back of the car, bumping Newt’s shoulder companionably. “Not exactly the kind to think things out, is he?”

Newt nodded, gritting his teeth as they all started to push. “But I love him anyway.”

Minho laughed brightly. “Do you? Guess the bar isn’t too high for me, then, huh?”

Gaping, Newt blushed again under the light of Minho’s bright, beautiful grin.

**9:49am, August 2 nd**

“– And that’s how we paid off the gang we thought was holding you captive,” Thomas explained. He sat beside the recently recovered Gally in the back seat of the destroyed Berg. He was texting, but one angry phone conversation earlier that day meant he wasn’t texting Teresa.

Newt smirked. Maybe Thomas and Aris wouldn’t need a divorce, after all.  

Gally blinked, then winced, as full-body sunburns were terribly painful. “But I was on the roof. I threw the mattress off so you would know I was stuck on the roof.”

Newt rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, we didn’t make the connection. Sorry, mate.”

Gally blinked again. Being left to bake in the Nevada heat had him a bit confused, it seemed. Newt was actually a touch grateful, as he was sure the moment Gally regained his full senses they would all be dead.

Yeah. Newt was probably going to go down as the world’s worst best man. But, hey, Gally had woken up with 80,000$ sleeping beside him instead of a hooker, so there was that.

“Jorge is going to kill me,” Gally muttered stoically. As though to emphasize his point, a piece of the tiger-shredded interior flutter away. Gally made a gagging noise.

Beside Newt, Minho winced. “Hey, man, don’t worry. This is all my fault and I’ll make sure Jorge knows it. Besides, he wouldn’t really kill you. Brenda wouldn’t let him.”

Gally glared. “Fucking right,” he hissed. “You can also tell her why I’m going to look like a fucking lobster in all of our wedding pictures.”

Minho paled. “Oh, shit. She’s going to kill me.”

Newt stroked Minho’s hand comfortingly. “She’ll only get angrier the later we are. I suggest you floor it.”

The Berg sped up as much as Minho dared. “You’ll protect me, right, Newt? We’re like, a thing now, right? You wouldn’t,” Minho swallowed, “Let Jorge have my guts for skipping ropes, right?”

Newt hummed, eyeing Minho with mock-consideration. “I suppose I am rather attracted to the packaging.”

“Please,” Thomas cut in, “You’ve been practically in his lap since you met him.”

Newt flushed bright red. “Just go back to texting you husband, Thomas.”

Thomas, the little shit, grinned. “Sure thing.”

“Since you met me, huh?” Minho asked. He looped a possessive arm around Newt’s shoulders, adoring the way Newt tucked against him.

Newt sighed dramatically, grinning. “I do have awful taste.”

Minho smiled, pressing a distracted kiss against Newt’s cheek. “Promise I’ll try and make-up for –“

“Hey, shuck for brains,” Gally called from the back seat. “Keep your eyes on the damned road. If I don’t make it to this wedding on time there won’t be a happy ending for any of us!”

But they did, and there was – Well, at least until the mess in Thailand. And then Mexico. 


End file.
